They were fully refitted for their sortie last month, Peter wanted to say. What are they waiting for now? Instead he asked, “Will Admiral Alexeev be leading this sortie in person?”
Stoessel looked embarrassed. “Admiral Vitgeft will lead the sortie. Admiral Alexeev has left for Mukden.” He hurried on before anyone could ask the obvious question. “Admiral Alexeev’s departure does not indicate any lack of confidence in our ability to hold Port Arthur,” he insisted. “He is viceroy of Manchuria, and while Port Arthur has hitherto been regarded as his headquarters, if we are going to be cut off for a while it is more important that he is in Mukden, from whence he can direct our affairs.” He looked over the sceptical faces in front of him. “He is pledged to return with the relieving force.”
*
“The fact is,” Peter told Anna. “He has done the most cowardly bunk.”
She sat with Peter on the upstairs porch after dinner, looking out to sea, at the lights of the Japanese ships, moving up and down, menacingly. “They remind me of sharks,” she said. “Can we hold out, Peter, until Kuropatkin is ready?”
“Of course. Port Arthur is impregnable.”
She shivered. “I seem to have heard that before.”
*
Colonel Michaelin studied the report which had just been placed on his desk. “There can be no doubt about it, your honour,” said his secretary. “It is the man Ulianov and his woman Krupskaya. Apart from the fact that our man in Brest-Litovsk is certain he recognised them, they are even, somewhat stupidly, using the pseudonym they adopted in Switzerland: Lenin. It is under this pseudonym that Ulianov claims leadership of the so-called Bolshevik Party, a splinter group from the Mensheviks, or Communists.”
“And now they have returned to Russia,” Michaelin said thoughtfully. “Hoping to take advantage of all the unrest. The leopard never changes his spots, Feodor. What about the Countess Bolugayevska?”
“Well, your honour, she is down on Bolugayen. According to our reports, she is managing the estate for her husband, the Count, in the absence of the Prince.”
“Who will be returning home in a month or two,” Michaelin said, more thoughtfully yet. “With that aunt-mistress of his.”
“That is supposing they can get out of Port Arthur, your honour. Our reports indicate that the peninsula is entirely sealed off.”
“Bah,” Michaelin said. “This so-called siege will be lifted as soon as Kuropatkin is ready. The Prince and his aunt will be back by the autumn. But I was not speaking of the Countess Sonia Bolugayevska. When the family falls, she will fall with it. I was speaking of the Countess Patricia, who now goes by the name of Mrs Duncan Cromb.”
“Ah, yes your honour. She remains in London.”
“Why, do you suppose?”
“Well, your honour, she is a mother, and she appears to be the height of respectability.”
“Never trust a woman who appears to be the height of respectability, Feodor. Even if she is a mother. Have we nothing on her?”
“It has been reported by one of our agents that she financed the Lenins’ return to Russia, your honour.”
“Ha ha. There is another leopard which never changes her spots. There is our prime target, Feodor. I want that woman. There.” He pointed at the floor in front of his desk.
“But...she is in England,” Feodor said.
“Fetch her here.”
Feodor raised his hand as if he would have scratched his head, then thought better of it. “You mean, kidnap the lady, your honour? From a friendly power?”
Michaelin pointed with his pen. “England is not a friendly power. She is an ally of Japan.”
“The lady is also married to an American, your honour, and is thus an American citizen.”
“Is that supposed to concern me? She is Russian, and she is a friend of the Lenins, and that means she is one of these Bolsheviks. I want her, Feodor.”
“But if it were to get about...”
“Give the task to Reddich. He is already acquainted with the Countess. Let him make the entire arrangements. It must be done secretly. The Countess must simply disappear from London and reappear in Russia. Let her squeal, when she gets here. Everyone will know that she is following her friends the Lenins. And when she is here, why...it may even be possible to fetch that Jewish bitch back from Bolugayen, and bring the Bolugayevskis tumbling down.” He leaned back with a smile. “I shall look forward to that. And I know just how it can be done. Send that fellow Rurik Bondarevski to me.”
Feodor frowned. “Bondarevski, your honour? He is just a recruit.”
“I know that, Feodor. But I also know that he is an erstwhile servant of the Bolugayevskis, and that he was once the lover of the Countess Anna. He hates that family. That is why he is working for us. He wants to bring them down. Well, I am going to let him realise his wish. Send him to me, Feodor.”
*
Duncan Cromb walked up and down his drawing-room, while Morgan watched him respectfully. Morgan was in fact every bit as upset as his master. Now...The doorbell rang, and Morgan hurried to open it, leaving the drawing-room door ajar. “Inspector Nichols, sir,” he announced.
Duncan faced the policeman. “Well?”
Inspector Nichols took off his silk hat and gave it to Morgan. “I’m afraid we must regard the situation as grave, Mr Cromb,” he said. “Your wife has most certainly been kidnapped. It was done in broad daylight, as you indicated when you called us. As Mrs Cromb left the emporium in Piccadilly where she had been shopping at...” he glanced at his notes, “eleven o’clock this morning, she was seized by four men who had appeared to be delivering goods to the shop next door, bundled into their wagon, and driven off at speed. It all happened so quickly it appears the young lady did not even have the time to cry out.”
“Did no one make any attempt to stop them?” Duncan demanded.
“Well, as I say, sir, it all occurred so very quickly, no one quite understood what was happening, until it was too late. Then a policeman was called, but there was a good deal of confusion. Some attempt was made to give chase, but it wasn’t very successful. No one knew who the lady was, you see, until you telephoned the station to report that your wife had not returned from shopping.”
“Even then you did very little about it,” Duncan reminded him.
“Well, sir, we naturally thought there had been an accident. With respect, Mr Cromb, it is not a very common occurrence for a lady to be abducted off a London street in broad daylight.”
“So you are telling me that there is nothing you can do.”
“On the contrary, sir. It is clearly a case of kidnapping for ransom. You are a well-to-do young man, a member of a wealthy family...” He paused. “I am sure there will be a ransom demand,” he went on. “The moment there…”
“You will be able to rush out and arrest these people and regain my wife, is that it?” Duncan demanded angrily.
“Well, sir, it won’t be as easy as that. However, once we receive a ransom demand, we will have something to go on. We already have a description of the men...”
Duncan stood in front of him. “You never told me that.”
“You never asked, sir. The descriptions are quite good. Four men, of eastern European appearance...”
“What did you say?”
“One of them is described as looking just like a large ferret. So you’ll see, sir, that we do have something to work on. Sir?” His voice rose an octave as Duncan slowly sank into a chair.
“Are you all right, sir?” Morgan asked solicitously.
“Yes,” Duncan said quietly. “Thank you, Inspector. I am sure that you are doing your best. I won’t detain you any longer.”
The inspector looked distinctly put out at the abrupt end to the interview. “You will contact me the very moment you receive a ransom note?”
“Yes,” Duncan said, absently. “The very moment.” There wasn’t going to be a ransom note. Patricia had not told him the whole story of what had happened to her at the ha
nds of the Okhrana, but she had told him of her rape in Sonia Cohen’s bedroom by a ferret-faced agent of the Okhrana, named Anton Reddich.
Morgan returned from showing the police officer out. “A glass of brandy, sir?”
Duncan’s head jerked. “I would like you to get on to Thomas Cook and book me the first available passage to Russia.”
“Now, sir?”
“Yes. Don’t you see, Harold? My wife has been kidnapped by the Okhrana. She was always afraid it would happen, and I always laughed at her fears. By God, those brutes...”
“I’ll see to it right away, sir. But what about Master Joseph?”
“You can look after him until I get back.”
“With respect, sir, if you are going to Russia to search for madam, I feel it my duty to accompany you. I have a sister who could look after the boy.”
Duncan gazed at him. “Do you have any idea how risky this business may be? Have you ever done any...well...”
Morgan’s smile was grim, but elated. “As a lad, sir, I served with the 24th Welsh Fusiliers in Africa. I was at Rorke’s Drift, sir. You’re not going to tell me these Russian secret policemen will be as difficult as a bunch of Zulu warriors. I will attend to these matters right away, sir. And obtain myself a passport.”
*
If Port Arthur could be cold in the winter, it could also be distinctly hot in the summer, and summer began early on the Pacific coast. Anna sat on the verandah and fanned herself while she stared at the sea, and the distant Japanese ships, and listened to the roar of the guns. The Japanese were bombarding Nanshan from beyond the Neck, and although it was some twenty miles away, the guns made a steady rumble of distant thunder. No one inside the perimeter knew anything of what was happening in the outside world, save what the Japanese chose to tell them, and the Japanese chose to tell them only of their own resounding victories.
Anna knew that mobilising the full strength of the Russian army was going to take time. They really could expect nothing much before August, and it was now only the last week of May, but the fact was that in another fortnight their exile would officially be over, and they would, in normal circumstances, be returning to the comfort and security of Bolugayen. Instead of which they were stuck here, under fire...and with the constant knowledge that General Count Nogi was out there — and he would know that she was in here!
Nathalie thumped on to the verandah and hurled herself into a chair, to join her aunt-in-law in gazing at the distant ships. “Oh, why don’t they go away?” she demanded. “Sometimes I think I am going mad.”
“I don’t suppose you see much of Pobrebski nowadays,” Anna remarked.
Nathalie glared at her. “Ivan is fighting a war.”
“So is your husband.”
Nathalie’s temper, as usual, dissolved into tears. “Oh, I worry so much. For both of them. If they were to be killed...”
“Yes,” Anna said, and stood up. “But not today.” She watched Peter walk his horse up the drive and dismount, throwing his reins to the waiting groom. She went down the stairs to greet him. He looked tired, and his green uniform was sweat-stained and dust-stained. “You look as though you could use a drink,” she said. “Champagne, Boris.”
“No,” Peter said. “Vodka.” He went on to the lower verandah and threw himself on to a bamboo settee.
“Why, then, Boris, vodka for His Highness,” Anna said. “I will have champagne.” She sat beside Peter. “Is it very bad?”
He raised his head; he had not even taken off his cap, and she did this for him. “Bad?” he asked. “Not for us, at the moment. The Japanese have assaulted the Neck. Thousands of them, marching forward. They did it last night, shining searchlight beams into the eyes of our men to blind them.”
Anna clasped her hands to her neck. “They didn’t get across?”
“Of course not. I have seen to that. Every gun in Nanshan fort is trained on the Neck. We didn’t have to see the enemy to know where he was; we simply blasted the Neck. After a while they abandoned the attempt, and when dawn came, it was sickening. There were literally thousands of them scattered about the place, dead and dying. We allowed them a couple of hours truce to pick up their people. But I should not think they will assault again; it is simply too costly. Modern warfare...” He shuddered. “Generals are going to have to think of something better than to launch their men against positions defended by machine-guns.”
“And brave men,” she suggested.
He glanced at her. “Of course.” Boris arrived with the tray, and Peter tossed off his glass of vodka without drawing breath. “I will have another of those, then I wish to lie down and sleep for a while. I must return to Nanshan after lunch.”
“But you said they would not attack again.”
“Who knows that they’ll do?” Peter asked.
She saw him to bed, and returned to the verandah. Surely even the Japanese would give up, now they realised they could not storm the Neck?
Then the guns started again, from the north; the Japanese had after all resumed the attack. She wondered if she should wake Peter, but he was exhausted, and there was nothing he could do. His work had been accomplished when he had trained every gun on the Neck; now all the Russians had to do was keep shooting.
The cannonade went on for upwards of an hour; Anna shuddered to think how many men must have been slaughtered. Surely now... “What’s that noise?” Peter stood above her, blinking sleep from his eyes.
“Shooting, from Nanshan. They must be attacking again.”
“I should have been wakened.” He went inside, calling for his valet.
Anna got up to follow, and was distracted by the sound of hooves. She went to the verandah rail, and looked down at the galloper who was throwing himself from his horse to come running up the steps. Peter had heard him too, and returned to the verandah, only half dressed. “Your Highness,” the soldier shouted. “Your Highness!”
“What is the matter? What has happened?”
“Your Highness!” The man was in a state of near collapse, and Anna signalled Boris to bring vodka. “The Japanese are across the Neck!”
Peter stared at him, and Anna felt as if she were about to choke. “That is not possible,” Peter said.
“They used the sea, Your Highness.”
“The sea?”
“Yes, Your Highness, while some of the enemy launched another frontal attack on the fort, others simply went into the sea and waded across. The guns were not trained on the sea, Your Highness. The Japanese were across in force before the guns could be moved. Then they attacked Nanshan from the rear. The fort has been captured, Your Highness. The Japanese are on the Liaotung!”
CHAPTER 15 - THE PEOPLE
Anna and Peter stared at each other. He had planned that defence so carefully, and had yet overlooked the most simple solution of the attacking force. “Have my horse saddled,” Peter bellowed, and ran back into the house to finish dressing.
Anna bit her lip. She was still standing there when he re-emerged, fully dressed. “What can you do?” she asked.
“They must be stopped, now,” he said. “If we do not defeat them now, then we are lost.” Anna kissed him, and watched him ride out. Then she sat down, and called for champagne. She was still sitting there twenty-four hours later, when the Prince Bolugayevski’s body was brought home.
*
The Prince’s body was embalmed, as his father’s had been, to await his return to Bolugayen and burial in the family cemetery.
Anna had not wept since Peter’s death. She was not a woman who wept easily, but in any event she was not sure of her emotions. Had she never loved her nephew? Indeed she had, as a nephew. And even as a lover. but never as a man. He had lacked the strength of his father, even if he had inherited much of Colin’s liberal attitude to life. Equally had he lacked the strength of his mother, although fortunately, he had also not inherited her vicious anger. Now he was dead. Would she then, return to Boston?
She thought she might do that,
and have done with adventuring. After all, she was sixty-six years old!
But...the prince was dead; long live the prince. Nathalie sitting on the verandah, drinking vodka. “I know I should be weeping,” she said. “But there is so much to be done. I am Princess Dowager of Bolugayen!” She rolled the words off her tongue. “The first thing I must do, once we get out of this hell-hole, is find a suitable husband for Dagmar. But of course he will have to do what I tell him.” She smiled, dreamily. “Everyone will have to do what I tell them.” She glanced at Anna. “Everyone!”
“You are mistaken, Nathalie,” Anna said. “If the Prince is dead, without a male heir, then the estate passes to his brother.”
“Ha! That Englishman? The estate passes to my daughter’s husband!”
“A business of at least a dozen years.”
“Ha! Well, as I have said, for those dozen years, I shall rule Bolugayen.”
“And I will see you damned before you do,” Anna told her.”
*
Reddich poked Patricia with his toe. “Get up, bitch. It is time to go ashore.”
Patricia raised her head, and pushed herself up from the deck on which she had been sleeping. She knew the ship had docked during the day, and that they were in St Petersburg. Then she had fallen asleep, as usual, from sheer exhaustion. So, nightmares never end. She had had four years of bliss, and now she was back in the pit. She had known her fate the moment she had recovered her breath and opened her eyes, and found Reddich kneeling beside her, smiling at her.
How long ago had that been? Did one count in hours and days, or in rapes and beatings? She wanted to kill this man. She wanted to do that more than anything else in the world. But to accomplish that dream she needed a weapon. And thus for the moment, patient acceptance of her fate. Even while her mind whirled with the injustice of it all, with worrying about little Joe...but Duncan loved the child and would take care of him, she was sure. But would he do anything else? There were a thousand obstacles between him and helping her, in Russia.
“You make a sound and I’ll put you in a bag,” Reddich warned.
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